


Forget Me (Not)

by songsofthespring



Series: YOI Collab Team #9 - Deity AU [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Flower Crowns, Fluff and Angst, Language of Flowers, M/M, Secret Relationship, Star-crossed, yoi collab game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsofthespring/pseuds/songsofthespring
Summary: Yuuri isn't supposed to be in love with Prince Viktor Nikiforov. The consequences for them both could be disastrous. But in the place that only he and Viktor knows exists, Yuuri might be able to make himself forget.





	Forget Me (Not)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the yoi collab game on Twitter! 
> 
> First off, a special thanks to Nico. Without you, I wouldn't have had the courage to join this collab and write this fic in the first place.
> 
> And to my amazing group members, thanks for making this experience amazing. All of you are such talented kind people and I'm glad I got to work with all of you!

It’s dangerous, what Yuuri is doing now. It’s dangerous, taking Viktor’s hand, watching Viktor’s smile brighten in response, listening to Viktor say “Yuuri,” with all the reverence a person can say a name. There is a feeling inside Yuuri now that he didn’t have a name for, once, but had decided to call love. He’s afraid.

\--

Yuuri touches his face, reassured by the feeling of the surface of the mask still in place around his eyes. It’s strange of him to wear it and Viktor will no doubt comment on it, but as long as Yuuri has it, Viktor doesn’t know him, not truly, and Yuuri can hope that what he’s doing will be overlooked.

The palace seems much larger when it isn’t crowded with party guests. Yuuri’s steps echo loudly in the empty space of the ballroom that had been full with the discordant noise of conversation and music last night. What does a person do with so much space?

“Yuuri!” Viktor’s voice startles Yuuri so badly he jumps. Viktor had appeared from a side door, bereft of the pink and gold mask that had partially obscured his face last night. His outfit, too, is much more subdued. He’s dressed as if to go riding; a flowy white muslin shirt, high waisted pants and knee high boots. It’s somehow just as distracting an outfit as the sparkling princely garb he’d worn last night. “You’re here! You came!”

“Yes,” Yuuri says dumbly, caught off guard by the depths of Viktor’s enthusiasm. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

“It’s a secret,” says Viktor, winking. “Come on.” He offers a hand to Yuuri and Yuuri takes it.

Viktor guides him out towards what Yuuri assumes are the palace gardens. They pass a trickling fountain and enter a maze of towering green hedges. Yuuri glances around, curious, but Viktor doesn't pause to let Yuuri look around. They walk, hand in hand, for a few minutes, with nothing between them but the chirping of birds and the cool morning air.

“Can I ask-” says Viktor, at last, and Yuuri can guess the question. Viktor must be curious about why, the day after Viktor’s masquerade ball, Yuuri is still wearing his mask.

“I’d rather if you didn't. I mean, it's. It's personal,” Yuuri says, aware of how flimsy and awful this answer must sound to Viktor. “I’m sorry.”

But Viktor just nods and says, “Okay. I won't ask then. But you know you can tell me anything, if you feel comfortable doing so. We’re friends, after all!”

Yuuri nods, feeling pleased and gobsmacked at the same time. The concept of being friends with Prince Viktor Nikiforov hasn't quite sunk in. Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s hand, and they continue on.

Though Viktor’s pace is leisurely and Yuuri feels safe with him, Yuuri does start to wonder where exactly Viktor is taking him. Their path is windy and circuitous and Yuuri’s thoroughly lost any idea of how to get back to the palace by the time Viktor pauses. There’s no apparent significance to the place Viktor chooses to stop. They’re bordered on either side by hedges and they’re facing a wall apparently overgrown with vines of ivy. They’d been walking along that wall for a little ways before Viktor paused. Viktor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. It's a silver key with no distinctive markings or ornamentation of any sort.

“Wait a moment,” Viktor says, lets go of Yuuri’s hand, and pushes aside the tangled vines. There’s a door, hidden behind the overgrowth. Even though Yuuri had seen the key, he was still been surprised; he hadn’t been able to tell where the door was until Viktor had expertly cleared the vines aside.

Yuuri watches with bated breath as the lock clicks open and Viktor shoulders open the door. Viktor beckons Yuuri closer and takes his hand again. “Come here, Yuuri.”

Yuuri steps through the door, and can’t help but say, “Wow.” It’s a garden. A real garden, not just a maze of shrubbery, but a space overflowing with multi-colored flowers and trees. It looks like something out of a fairytale. Tulips, carnations, roses, irises. Every flower Yuuri can think of, and then some, is present in this garden, in many different shades.  There are trees of all sorts too, providing not only color but shade, fruit, and flowers of their own. “Viktor, it’s beautiful.”

“You like it?” Viktor says, his smile steadily increasing in its radiance. “It’s my secret garden. I come here all the time, when I need to get away from the palace. You’re the first person I’ve shown it to.” Viktor bends, plucks a white daisy, and slips the stem behind Yuuri’s ear.

“I’m honored,” Yuuri says,trying not to flush at Viktor’s proximity. He touches the flower at his ear, petting the soft petals with his index finger. “Did you create this place all on your own?”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Viktor replies. “It was my mother’s garden once. She loved it and I came with her here a lot. She taught me all about the plants she was growing and what sort of care they needed. When she died--” Viktor pauses, just a moment, and Yuuri doesn’t miss the way his expression hardens, “it was difficult to come here for a while. I’m embarrassed to say it took me so long to work up the courage that some of her beautiful plants had already died. But I realized this place held so many happy memories for me and I couldn’t let it fall into disuse. It became something of my little haven, after that, and I’ve been caring for it ever since.”

“It’s wonderful,” Yuuri tells him, and Viktor smiles, his eyes soft and warm, and Yuuri thinks, oh no.

\--

Yuuri knows it’s wrong, but he starts meeting with Viktor in the garden all the time. It’s been days, then weeks, since the masquerade, but Yuuri is still wearing his mask. Viktor hasn’t asked about it again, though Yuuri can tell he wants to.

Instead, he asks Yuuri about everything and nothing. Viktor asks what Yuuri does for fun, how many relationships he’s been in, about his friends and family. Yuuri tells him as much as he can, though he refused to say anything in response to the relationship question. In return, Yuuri learns that Viktor has a terrible memory, that aside from his younger brother Prince Yuri, his best friend is his pet poodle Makkachin, and that he’s easily impressed by little things, like the taste of Yuuri’s home cooking.

Being with Viktor is strange. Yuuri’s heart pounds every time he’s around Viktor, but he’s not anxious. He feels strangely calm around Viktor and this sensation only increases the more he learns about him. Yuuri has never been someone who opens up easily but Viktor seems to pull things out of him effortlessly, and Yuuri finds, more and more, that though he’s wearing a physical mask, he can be himself around Viktor.

‘I get it now.’ Yuuri thinks to himself, ‘My heart’s pounding because of how happy I am.’

Viktor is currently laying on his stomach, engrossed in a book. As he reads, he tucks an errant piece of hair behind his ear. His expression is a little frown of rapt attention and sunlight dapples across his cheeks and forehead. Makkachin is curled at his side, using one of Viktor’s arms as a makeshift pillow.

Yuuri has his own book, but he can’t bring himself to focus on anything but Viktor, at the moment. His chest feels warm watching him. Viktor has become so familiar to him in the time since they’d met. It feels like he’s known Viktor centuries and Viktor’s garden has started to become his too. Viktor has taught him about all the plants in the garden. Yuuri now knows which plants need to watered frequently, which need to be protected from too much sunlight and which suffer in the shade. Viktor has even allowed Yuuri to make the garden his own and plant whichever saplings or flowers he wanted.

Yuuri is at home with Viktor in a way he’s never been before.

And he realizes, when Viktor looks up from his book, sunlight playing across his face, and smiles and his heart clenches as he returns Viktor’s smile, that he can’t allow this to continue.

\--

But Viktor’s pull is a difficult thing to resist, and Yuuri finds that he’s already in too deep.

“It’s a perfect day,” Viktor says, as they make their way to the garden. “I can’t wait to lay out and enjoy the sunshine.” He’s taken Yuuri’s hand and is swinging their joined hands between them and with the other he’s holding a colorful folded blanket. Yuuri hums in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied berating himself to really focus on Viktor’s words. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to come today. He’d decided that time away from Viktor was really the best thing for him. But Viktor had wilted when Yuuri had told him yesterday that he had plans and wouldn’t be able to see Viktor.

“I understand,” he’d said, but he’d looked so sad that Yuuri had backtracked before he’d even realized what he was doing. Yuuri just can’t seem to help himself when it comes to Viktor.

When they arrive at the garden, Viktor makes his way to the center of the garden, where there’s a grassy field, surrounded by plants on all sides. Viktor lays the blanket out with some difficulty because it’s huge. When it’s spread out to Viktor’s satisfaction, it’s big enough that four or five people could lay on it comfortably.

Viktor flops down on it, beckoning for Yuuri to follow. Yuuri crawls over next to him, though he’s careful to keep at least a little space between them. That goes out the window when Viktor scoots closer until their shoulders brush and says, “Yuuri, do you like cloud watching?”

“Um,” Yuuri replies, “I can’t say I really watch the clouds at all, really.”

Viktor gasps like this is an affront to his very being. “Then I’ll teach you. It’s the most fun when you find things in the clouds. Like--” he pauses a moment, scanning the sky, then points dramatically above them, “That one! That one looks like a cat doesn’t it? It’s curled up and it’s licking a paw. Can you see it?”

Yuuri squints. It just looks like every other cloud, puffy and white.

Viktor shakes his head. “Okay, maybe that was a stretch. It doesn’t have the right ears to be a cat. You find something Yuuri!”

Yuuri says, weakly, after searching fruitlessly for a recognizable shape in the clouds, “Um. That one looks like….a bush?”

Viktor bursts into laughter and Yuuri feels his face color with embarrassment but Viktor turns his smile on him, and Yuuri can’t resist cracking a little smile back. It’s a talent of Viktor’s; somehow, whenever he smiles, he compels Yuuri to smile back effortlessly.

They play at finding things in the clouds a little longer, each of them trying to identify increasingly stranger things, but eventually, they’d both fallen into a comfortable silence. Their shoulders are still pressed together and both of them have their faces turned upwards, lazily watching the clouds drift across the sky above them. Being around people is almost always taxing for Yuuri, but in this moment, he feels just as content as he does when he’s alone, or just with Phichit or his family. He’s glad he came, despite his better judgement.

“What are you thinking about?” Viktor asks.

“Nothing,” Yuuri replies, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it between his fingers.

“Not nothing. You always tense up when you’re thinking about something, Yuuri.” Viktor runs a hand down Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri lets his shoulders fall. He hadn’t realized his shoulders were tense until that moment. “There you are,” Viktor says, and his voice has a smile in it, “Will you tell me about it?”

Yuuri laughs, a little self-consciously. “I--I was just thinking about how happy I am.”

Viktor squeals in delight and hugs Yuuri close, and all of a sudden they’re rolling, and Viktor is laughing, and Yuuri worries very much for the safety of the plants around them in the back of his mind, but the rest of him is too caught up laughing and enjoying the moment.

When they stop rolling, Yuuri is looking down at Viktor. Viktor’s long silver hair is a mess and Viktor’s face is mostly obscured by it. Yuuri brushes it aside and meets Viktor’s eyes and thinks, ‘I want to kiss him. I’m falling in love with Viktor and right now, I really want to kiss him.’

But he doesn’t. He can’t. Yuuri doesn’t miss the way that Viktor’s face falls when Yuuri rolls off of him.

\--

That day, when Yuuri leaves the garden, he is bursting with feeling. Viktor wanted him to stay a little longer; he knows Yuuri well enough now to tell that Yuuri was anxious and he'd been reluctant to let Yuuri leave in that statae. Yuuri has been open with Viktor about so many things but he couldn’t very well tell Viktor that the knowledge that Yuuri is falling in love with him more and more is what’s causing his anxiety. He'd told Viktor he was fine, that he was tired from all that time spent laying under the sun. Viktor had let him go, reluctantly, when Yuuri had reassured Viktor he'd be back tomorrow.

Once he leave the palace, though, he's more jittery than he was before. He needs to talk to someone, to get this tangle of feelings out. And if he can’t talk to Viktor, there’s really only one person he can go to. Luckily for him, it’s easy enough to get a message to the messenger of the Gods.

Phichit meets him in a bustling tavern. It’s his kind of place, filled with cheery conversation and the hustle and bustle of the servers, but not chaotic with it. The perfect place to have a little fun or gossip quietly in a corner booth. Or both, which is what Phichit normally does. Phichit has already claimed his corner booth when Yuuri arrives, and Yuuri slides in across the table from him.

“I need your help,” Yuuri says. Phichit, as the messenger of the gods and a renounced gossip, is probably an unconventional choice of confidant, but he's also Yuuri’s best friend, and he's never betrayed Yuuri before. He’s the only person that Yuuri can share his secret with.

“Of course, Yuuri! I’ll do anything I can,” Phichit says. “Is it work troubles? Your latest project seemed to go off without a hitch!” He's speaking of course, of JJ and Isabella, the couple he'd been trying to play matchmaker for and the reason he'd been at Viktor's ball in the first place. Luckily, he hadn't needed to provide more than an initial push in the right direction, because he'd ended up spending most of the night dancing with Viktor, with a mind for nothing else.

“Not that,” says Yuuri, trying not to fidget with nerves. He leans a little across the table towards Phichit, lowers his voice. “It's….it’s about Viktor.”

“You mean Prince Viktor Nikiforov?” Phichit asks, with no small amount of interest. “He seemed like a cool guy. He was much less stuffy at the party then I thought he would be. I mean, he danced with you practically all night!”

“I've been seeing him,” Yuuri blurts and quickly realizes his mistake when Phichit grins, raises an eyebrow.

“Seeing him, huh?”

“Not like that Phichit!” Yuuri groans. “I just meant we’ve been spending time together since the party. He confessed to me he's lonely in that huge castle with only his dog and Prince Yuri for company.”

“So?” Phichit says, “What's the problem? He seems like a nice guy and you made a friend.”

Yuuri has to remind himself to breathe. He looks around just to make certain no one’s around. The closest person to them is a young waitress who is too focused on taking a large rather raucous table’s order than paying attention to Yuuri. He doesn’t see any familiar faces or feel the prickle of eyes on him.  “I'm seeing the signs,” Yuuri whispers. “Of a match?” He lilts his voice up to indicate a question, but there’s nothing up for debate about it, really.

Phichit’s eyes widen to almost comical proportions and he says, too loud, “No way!”

“Shh,” Yuuri says, waving his hands, trying to indicate to Phichit just how bad it would be if someone overheard them. “These things aren't an exact science. I've been wrong before. But. Ugh, Phichit, I don't know what to do! He's a human! And I’m--”

“Eros.” Yuuri freezes, both at the seriousness of Phichit's tone and the use of his real name.

“Yes,” Yuuri replies, weakly.

Phichit crosses his arms and pins Yuuri with a, frankly, intimidating look.. “What kind of God of love would you be if you’ve never experienced it for yourself?” Phichit asks. “Yeah, it’s not exactly convenient that you fell for a human, and a high profile one at that, but you deserve to be happy.”

“It’s not that simple. Phichit--Hermes, you know it’s not. We’re not supposed to do this. And there are consequences.”

Phichit sighs, steeples his fingers. “Yuuri, you know the risks. You know this won’t be easy. But you knew those things going into this. You made the choice to keep meeting him, right?”

Yuuri nods, miserably, traces the condensation on his water glass with his pointer finger to avoid looking at Phichit.

“If you really want my opinion Yuuri, I think you should go for it!”

“Really?” Yuuri asks, surprised enough by the straight-forward response that he looks up and meets Phichit’s eyes.

“Yeah!” Phichit says, “You’ve been happier lately. And the fact that you’re spending a bunch of time with Viktor when I can hardly ever convince you to come out for a casual night with some of our friends...well, it says a lot.”

Yuuri ducks his head, feeling guilty. Phichit has a point. Yuuri’s first instinct is always to push people away and besides Phichit, Viktor is the only person he’s met who he’s been able to get past that initial urge to escape and actually get to become friends with.

“Just think about it, okay? If it comes to it, the Trials are...well, they’re hard, but they’re not impossible. If you really love him, you should enjoy what you have now and trust him if it comes to the Trials.”

Yuuri has always been forgettable. He’s not the most powerful God, not the most recognizable, and he’s never really spent a lot of time around the other Gods either, too preoccupied with his work and weighed down by social anxiety. It seems impossible that a person like Viktor likes him. That a person like Viktor could love him.

But every time he asks Viktor why he even allows Yuuri into his garden and spends whole afternoons with him, Viktor practically falls over himself to sing Yuuri’s praises. And whenever he asks Viktor if he’d ever forget about Yuuri, the answer is always the same.

‘How could I possibly forget about you, Yuuri?’

Yuuri can’t warn Viktor about what will happen when it comes out that Yuuri is involved with a human. He can’t take off his mask and show his true self to Viktor the way he wants. All he’s allowed are these small moments with Viktor to bask in his presence and hint at what’s to come as best he can. Selfishly, Yuuri wants to keep Viktor's eyes on him, even for those brief moments. Phichit's right. He’s in far too deep with Viktor to turn back now. Just the thought of disappearing without saying goodbye to Viktor or staging a fight between them and destroying their friendship makes Yuuri’s heart pang in his chest. No, he has to see this through. He loves Viktor too much not to try.

\--

Yuuri is in love with Viktor. Now that he’s come to that realization and admitted it to himself, it’s all he can think about.

Yuuri watches Viktor’s long, thin fingers as they braid flowers together for a flower crown. Viktor had declared that he would make Yuuri’s crown and that Yuuri would make one for Viktor. Viktor’s expression is the picture of concentration. His crown for Yuuri thus far consists of alyssum in pale pink and purple, daisies, and forget-me-nots. Yuuri really should be making Viktor’s flower crown, but he’d gotten distracted watching the movement of Viktor’s hands and the little scrunch between his eyebrows as he focuses.

‘I’m in love with you,’ Yuuri thinks, but he doesn’t dare say the words.

Viktor looks up, spots Yuuri’s almost non-existent progress and pouts. “Yuuri! You haven't been working on my flower crown! I thought we were going to match!”

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbles and he hurries to pick up the flower crown he’d started for Viktor. He’d begun with statice, a deep purple flower that Viktor explained is also a herb--he’s such a nerd when it came to facts about his flowers. Yuuri has also chosen lavender-colored roses, which he’d had to painfully dethorn, and Queen Anne’s lace to tie the arrangement together.

Yuuri hadn’t known how to make a flower crown before. Viktor had taught him, after he’d been coming to the garden for a while. Yuuri had been reluctant at first; Viktor’s garden was so beautiful and it seemed awful to pluck the flowers and kill them, just for a crown that would so easily dry out and die. But Viktor had insisted that Yuuri learn and wear the flower crowns because, according to Viktor, Yuuri looked ‘ravishing’ in them. Yuuri was embarrassed, but not so embarrassed that he was able to say no to making them.

This was the first time that Viktor had asked Yuuri to make a crown for him, though, so Yuuri refocused on his task, wanting to make it as pretty as possible for Viktor.

Viktor leaned over to see and says, “Oh, Yuuri, you’re using roses! They’re my favorite! I’m a bit of a romantic, maybe, but I’ve always loved roses best. Though,” he adds, tapping a finger to his lips, “if I had to pick a favorite color rose, that would be blue.”

Yuuri looks up at him, surprised. “Blue? But Viktor, blue roses don’t grow naturally.”

Viktor laughs. “You’re quite right Yuuri! I’m pleased you know that. I think that’s part of the reason why I like them best. They mean unattainable. Something just out of reach. We can create them by dying white flowers, but they’re not really blue, after all. There’s something tragically beautiful about them, wouldn’t you say?”

Yuuri hums, but he’s not thinking about blue roses anymore. He’s thinking about the blue of Viktor’s eyes. ‘Please, Gods,’ Yuuri thinks, ‘Give me Viktor’s time, even if only just for now.’ He hopes now can last forever, that he can spend all the time Viktor can give him here, making flower crowns, but he knows better. Everytime he blinks he’s afraid that when he opens his eyes, Viktor will be gone.

“Do you have a favorite flower, Yuuri?” Viktor asks, seemingly oblivious to Yuuri’s inner turmoil.

“Forget-me-nots,” says Yuuri, quietly.

“Oh!” Viktor says, delighted, examining the crown he’d made Yuuri. “Good, now we’ll both have our favorite flowers in our crowns!” He sets his creation onto Yuuri’s head gently. “There,” he says, softly. “A crown for my Yuuri.”

Yuuri can’t help but blush, but he keeps his eyes down, towards the flower crown in his lap. “Just a moment, Viktor, I’m still working on yours.” He works hard to finish the crown, though there’s only so fast Yuuri can go; weaving the flowers together is delicate work. At last, it’s complete, and he looks up. Viktor’s eyes are bright and focused on Yuuri. Yuuri had felt his eyes on him the entire time Yuuri had been working on Viktor’s crown, but he’d been too focused to feel any embarrassment.

“There,” he says, nestling the crown atop Viktor’s beautiful silver hair. He swallows, takes a steadying breath. “A crown for my Viktor.” The word ‘my’ is heavy on his tongue, but at the same time, he wants to shout the word. At least for now, he gets to keep Viktor all to himself.

Viktor beams. He’s practically glowing, but he doesn’t tackle Yuuri like before. Instead, his movements are slow and he’s telegraphing all of them to Yuuri, making his intentions obvious. Yuuri closes his eyes, and the next moment, Viktor is kissing him. There is no flash of fireworks, no roaring in Yuuri’s ears, no delicate harp song. It’s just Viktor, cradling the back of Yuuri’s head, and kissing him, so sweetly.

And Yuuri thinks, “I'm in love with Viktor Nikiforov.' He dares the Heavens to try and tear them apart.

He’s not afraid.


End file.
